highway interchange

A highway interchange connects Interstate 310 and U.S Route 61 outside of New Orleans, Louisiana, USA. Because the roadways in this area were built on top of environmentally sensitive wetlands, construction platforms were mounted on top of concrete piles to minimize disruption with the terrain below.

29.975279°, -90.319193°

Source imagery: Nearmap

im playing cities: skylines again and i downloaded this 8-way highway interchange and this shit looks like the world’s largest automotive transmutation glyph

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ANGIE!

So, its still your birthday over there, right, thetourguidebarbie? So, as requested, Your Royal Highness of Smut:

Klaus finally gets up the courage to inform Caroline that her bad habit annoys him. She scoffs and rolls her eyes and the next morning he wakes up to a stick figure drawing of him and a horse on his bedside table.

Let this fulfill your fluff quota for the day! Is it fluff though? There’s no smut so it must be fluff! Enjoy :)


“If you take this street on the right, we can hit the highway at an interchange earlier,” Caroline suggested, pointing at the road she was talking about without looking up from her phone where she had been consulting the GPS app.

“There’s more traffic on that road,” Klaus immediately rebuked.

She scoffed at his bored tone, locking and dropping her phone into her lap before peering out of the windscreen to see the constantly moving traffic in front of them. “Not at 9 in the evening,” she pointed out.

“Sweetheart, I have been driving in this area for years. I have lived here even before the roads were laid for cars. I know where I’m going,” Klaus insisted with a tired sigh, offering her a half-hearted (and slightly sarcastic) smirk when he glanced over at her.

“I never said you didn’t, just that you can cut the journey time by a couple of minutes,” Caroline said softly, placatingly, yet with an edge to words to show she wasn’t backing down from her opinion. She met his eyes with a raised brow, challenging him to argue.

Which, of course, he did. “I assure you, I will cut those couple of minutes regardless,” he said smugly, already changing the gear and speeding past the street she had wanted to take without a second look. If it wasn’t for his impeccable reactions and spacial awareness, she would be gripping onto the leather armrests of his luxury four wheel drive.

“I hate it when you over-speed,” she grumbled nonetheless, tucking her phone away into her purse and sitting back petulantly.

“And I hate it when you backseat drive,” Klaus added without missing a beat.

“Well, excuse me for trying to get home quicker so we could maybe enjoy a nice bath before bed,” Caroline huffed, stretching out her arms in front of her with an exaggerated groan as if to emphasise her need for relaxation. Like they hadn’t just spent two days away from New Orleans to go visit a witch three hours away, spending only about a tenth of their time away with him (and the rest together).

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise the the two extra minutes was a make-or-break factor for having a bath,” he retorted as he made the turn onto the highway, where he picked up the speed once again.

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated,” Caroline remarked, unconsciously curling her feet closer to the seat in reaction to the lights speeding past them as he wove in and out of the vehicles in front of them. She might trust his skills, but even the years with him  weren’t enough to take out the fear her mother had instilled in her when she had first gotten her learner’s permit. “And you’re officially uninvited from my bath.”

She pretended she didn’t see him roll his eyes in reply.

The lavender scented bubbles were on their last dregs with the water only lukewarm after the hour she had spent in the bath. It was a good thing she was impervious to feeling hot or cold because, even though her skin was slowly starting to wrinkle up at the extremities, she had no motivation to move.

Until Klaus’ voice cut through the silence, indicating his arrival back into their quarters of the house from meeting with Elijah to catch up with what had occurred in his city whilst they were away.

Caroline! How many times do I have to ask for you to keep the curtains in my studio closed whenever we leave for a few days?”

His words were tinged with clear irritation, and she could practically see him in her mind’s eye; jaw clenched and hands repeatedly furling into fists to keep himself from acting out. A small smile played on her lips at the image (he might be pissed, but it was still a hot look) as she sunk slightly more into the water.

“I must have forgotten, sorry,” she called back, not having to raise her voice much to know he would hear with both his hybrid hearing and the echo of the marble bathroom.

“Perhaps next time you can simply leave it be when I have prepared it,” Klaus muttered indignantly, the sounds of heavy velvet curtains being drawn closed with a quick whoosh and the scraping of two easels against the wooden floors providing the background to his words.

Realising she wouldn’t be getting much quiet time after that, Caroline resigned herself to ending the bath by tugging the plug out with the dexterity of her toes and savouring every last moment she could of the water as it swirled down the drain.

“It was only a couple of days, babe; surely it didn’t burn anything up in that time, right?” she replied, both defensively and in actual curiosity.

“Every second the art in the sun, it starts to fade,” he replied gruffly.

Pursing her lips at the sudden realisation of what her actions might have caused, she started to push herself out of the tub as she asked, slightly hesitantly; “Yeah, but it’s mostly your own work. Can’t you just, you know, touch it up or whatever?”

“No, Caroline, I can’t just ‘touch it up or whatever’. If I constantly kept restoring my work, I wouldn’t have time to create anything new,” Klaus answered condescendingly, a huff in his words that only made her shake her head

Wrapping the towel around her body after drying herself off, she climbed out of the tub and headed into the bedroom. “Fine, I’ll refrain from entering your studio from now on, ok?” she said in the general direction of where he was in the adjoining room.

“That’s not what I sai- You know what, never mind; do as you wish. I’ll just have to remember to check before we leave.” His tone indicated he was talking mainly to himself at the end; an endearing attribute of his which she had only discovered when she had moved in with him. She put it down to the fact that, after a thousand years, there was only so much his mind could store. The rest (the unneeded stuff) was said out loud as he thought and cast aside. “And to throw out your Diet Coke cans whenever you leave them behind… In my studio.”

Caroline had just about reached the closet when he entered the bedroom too, offending drink can (or three) in hand. Wincing at the sight of them (it was a recently addiction, which she was sure came from her attempt of trying to find an easier way to curb her vampire cravings in the city where fresh, human blood ran freely), she instead put on the most innocent face she could muster up at the look at pure annoyance on his face.

“What’s with the attitude, Klaus? You’ve been in a funk ever since we were heading back,” she asked as sweetly as she could, letting down and tousling her hair with her fingers. It was a clear-cut, tried and tested method; he fell for the ‘sweet, good-girl-next-door’ every time.

That was, when his mind wasn’t captivated on his art (or his anger towards it).

“I am not ‘in a funk’. I just need you to listen to me when I ask you to do certain things,” Klaus retorted slowly, holding her eyes with his narrowed blue ones. Biting her bottom lip to keep herself from arguing, Caroline nodded once and clutched lightly onto her towel as she continued on her way to get changed. She could hear him let out of long, heavy sigh, before uttering under his breath, “Such as this closet.”

Twirling around on her heel, she pointed a finger at him threateningly. The closet might technically be ‘theirs’ but it was her project. No-one organised like Caroline Forbes did, and if she had a walk-in closet the size of her childhood living room and kitchen put together, then so be it. And any criticism against it was a personal criticism against her.

“What’s wrong with the closet?” she asked, enunciating each word slowly and precisely.

“Must you rearrange it practically every month? Do you know how long it takes for me to find a simple top or a belt some mornings?” Klaus enquired, though she had a feeling that it was rhetorically. Mainly because she it was rare occasion when she was awake at the time he got ready.

“You could just ask me,” she replied in a haughty manner, turning around to retrieve her pajamas from the drawers which faced her side of the closet.

His footsteps were heavy yet quiet against the plush cream carpet, and she almost snapped at him to remove his dirty shoes when she spotted him doing so before she could get a word out,

“I have asked you,” he all but growled, dropping his shoes onto the floor with a thump, followed by the other before he began peeling his socks off.

“I thought you were just joking,” Caroline merely shrugged, tossing aside her towel as she pulled out a pair of clean panties and slipped them on; bending over to give Klaus a clear view of her ass.

She could feel the heat of his stare on her, yet was sorely disappointed when he remained on the other side of the chest of drawers, digging out his own pair of sleeping bottoms; frown lines still visible on his features even though his eyes had darkened considerably.

“I wasn’t,” he uttered, making her roll her eyes and pull on her own pajamas.

“Clearly,” she murmured to herself, though there were no delusions whether he would have heard it or not.

“And whilst we’re on the subject, sweetheart,” Klaus added, bare chested so she could see his toned muscles contract and move when he plucked out a top from the railing behind him. It was familiar and new; the tags were still on it and if she looked closer, she could see the same was true for the other items of clothing in the same section. “Please stop buying clothes for me and adding it to what I already have in hope I will suddenly wake up colourblind and decide to wear these monstrosities,” he spat out, cringing with the last word as he shook the top in question.

“Hey! I happen to like yellow! You would suit it; it’d make you look more relaxed,” she defended herself, placing a hand on her hip and waved the other at him from head to toe as if to prove her point. In his semi-naked form, it was hard not to see his tense stance under his smooth skin and lean form.

“Well, I do not,” he gritted out, pulling out the rest of the clothes (hangers still attached because no matter how riled up he was, they both knew he wouldn’t dare to face her wrath of crinkling the unworn and unwanted clothes). “And I don’t need to look relaxed, I need to look like me.”

“You could make yellow ‘you’ if you began wearing it,” Caroline suggested, hanging up her towel and taking a short-sleeved top out of his hands and admiring it. It had been an impulse buy on her last shopping spree (which was more or less a weekly occurance these days), having remembered how much she adored seeing her significant other in his sleeveless tops at home and not minding having more of it on a daily basis. “This is grey. You love grey.”

Placing the items in his hands onto the the top of the drawers, he shook his head exasperatedly. “Its a t-shirt,” he pointed out slowly.

“So?”

Letting out a long sigh, Klaus ran a hand through his hair before settling with; “I’m not a fan.”

“But you have gorgeous arms,” she argued, crossing over to his side and running a seductive hand down his arm, squeezing his forearm gently when she reached it. The unimpressed look on his face told her he knew what she was playing at and that he wasn’t falling for it.  “Fine, no t-shirts or colours. Sorry for trying to inject a bit of light and change into your life,” she said sarcastically, adding the grey shirt to the rest of the pile and gathering them in her arms to place onto the small chair near the door so she would remember to put it into the refuse bin in the morning. If Klaus wasn’t going to get some use out of it, then she’d be damned if no-one else did.

“I have light and change in my life, but she’s trying to change my personal preferences without asking me and it’s becoming irritating,” he remarked from behind her, his words softer and more understanding as he spoke. A smile played on her lips at his words, turning to see him change into a pair of jogging bottoms and catch her eyes with a raised brow. “And she’s also messing up my artwork.”

“Right,” she said, slightly perturbed at her own actions. Titling her head to the side, she offered him an apologetic look as she tried, “Sorry?”

Klaus rolled his lips between his teeth before letting out a breath and nodding. “It’s fine. Just- Don’t do it again,” he simply said, throwing his clothes into the washing hamper on his way towards her.

“Duly noted.” Caroline smiled, patting his naked torso as she asked,  “Anything else you want to get off your chest?”

“Nothing I can think of, no,” he retorted dryly when she finally walked back into the bedroom and climbed into bed. He rub his brow with a thumb to smooth out his tension, much to her amusement.

“Well, I’ll be here all night if you do,” she insisted with a saccharine smile and scrunching up her nose cutely before tucking herself in.

Once again, she pretended she didn’t see him roll his eyes in reply.

Klaus woke up the next morning to the unusual feeling of emptiness. Not him, however, but the bed. There was no-one in his arms, and more importantly, there were no limbs entangled with his own or the light floral-vanilla scent that was simply Caroline invading his senses.

Cracking open an eye, he blinked repeatedly when the bright sunlight hit his sensitive sight, not use to the room being basked in the morning light when he was usually the one who would open the curtains.

Focusing on the sounds nearby, he melted into the bed onto his back at the familiar spray of the shower and the love of his life’s singing. He was never a fan of the modern pop culture (he was this close to trying to compel himself to forget the lyrics to another one of Taylor Swift’s songs, who Caroline adored), but hearing her sing about James Dean and tight little skirts made all the difference.

Pushing himself up lazily against the headboard, Klaus reached over to grab his phone from the bedside table to check for any messages when he spotted a rolled up piece of paper balancing precariously atop of it.

Frowning in confusion (he was sure he had put his sketchbook away without ripping out a page the night before), he grabbed it tentatively and opened it in his lap. The drawing was hastily done, yet he could see the concentration and the thought the artist (he used the word very lightly) had put into it.

He assumed the stick man with short spirals for hair was him, especially considering the frown Caroline had etched onto his face along with the black pants and grey short sleeved t-shirt he wore (Klaus refused to think about the state his pencil must be in after all the shading).

There was another stick figure next to the man, however, taking into account the four legs and the (rather) elongated nose, he assumed it was an animal. With large, cutesy eyes and a tail made of straight lines with the end flicked gently, realisation hit him with a huff of irritation.

A horse. She had tried (‘tried’ being the key word) to replicate the drawing he had so lovingly drawn and left for her after his mother’s ball back in Mystic Falls. Whereas his had been a near-perfect portrait of a brief moment in time they had both shared, hers was obviously an amature attempt to tease him further.

And as proof of her blatant plagiarism, she had even added his regurgitated words next to it in her own swirly handwriting.

‘Thank you for your (belated*) honesty. Caroline x’

Rolling his eyes before rereading the line, Klaus searched for whatever she had omitted and referenced to by the asterisk. It was only when he turned the paper around that he noticed the few lines in the top lefthand corner in her normal handwriting.

‘*Seriously, Klaus. Next time, just tell me you’re not joking or that you really don’t like what I bought you. I can handle it. Unless you want to spend the rest of your life being constantly confused by your own closet.’

Growling at the implication of her words, he called out without waiting for her to leave the shower, “You’re not funny!”

Her light laughter resonated around the bathroom and through the door, making him reluctantly smile at the sound of it. “Did you like my drawing?” she asked over the water, which had slowed down.

Turning it back to the to picture, he analysed it with a critical eye before giving her the answer she was obviously looking for. “Its amazing,” he deadpanned.

He could hear the gentle swoosh of the water being turned off and her grabbing her towel before the door creaked open. “The resemblance is uncanny, right?” Caroline played along, crossing her arms over her towel-clad body and leaning against the doorjamb. “You don’t even have to keep it out of the light, either!”